


An Attempt at an Act of Atonement

by orphan_account



Category: due South
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Friendship, Guilt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser tries to make something up to Vecchio, who would really prefer it if he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Attempt at an Act of Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this as Fraser/Vecchio, but it's not, really. But it also isn't _not _Fraser/Vecchio. Same for the "Dom/sub Undertones" tag. It's really much more about friendship and forgiveness than it is about sex, but then it's also not really _not _about sex.____

I went to him that last night, before I went home. It had been over a year, but my guilt, my shame over Victoria had grown, not lessened. Knowing she was out in the world, that she could come back any time, haunted me. I needed someone to lance the wound, to accept the mortification of my flesh, to grant me absolution.

I tossed a pebble at his window; clad in his striped pyjamas, he peered out at me and held his hand up to indicate that I should give him five minutes. He was out in the yard with me, in slacks and one of his colorful shirts, in three minutes.

“Hey, Benny,” he said with a grin. “One last hurrah before you take off for the Great White North?”

“It’s a beauty way to go,” I told him solemnly, joking with him despite my fear. We went to an all-night bakery, got three crullers, which we took back to my apartment. I made tea for myself and coffee for him; Dief ate his cruller in three bites, slurped some water, and, after deigning to listen to my admonishments about our departure time, went out in the neighborhood for his own last shout.

Ray sat in the chair; I took him his coffee, kneeling next to him. He laughed down at me.

“Jeez, Benny, you’re taking courtesy to a whole new level even for you,” he said.

I refused to look up at his warm, friendly face. “It’s not courtesy,” I told him. “It’s supplication.”

I heard his sharp inhalation but resisted the temptation to look up. “I wounded you grievously,” I said, my speech formal and rehearsed. “I put your career, your honor and your family’s security on the line.”

“Benny, you made good on my career before you even tried to leave, and as for my honor; well, the worst anyone could have said about me was that I was too loyal a friend. And that’s not dishonor, in my book. As for the house…well, I would’ve found a way. And I’m the one who literally wounded you,” he added.

I shook my head, still staring at his shoes. “I have no excuse for what I did, what I was going to do, to you. I have only my regret, my guilt and my shame to offer you.”

“I don’t want any of those things,” he said, starting to sound worried. But still I refused to look at him. “I only want your friendship, Benny. You’ve got mine, and nothing can take that away.”

His words, meant to soothe, only wounded me more. I shook my head, still looking down, and reached for the fly of his trousers. “I owe you so much more,” I said.

His hands, warm and gentle, pushed at mine. “No, Benny,” he said, sounding nearly as distressed as I felt. “Not that. You’re not like that. I’m not like that. _We’re _not like that.”__

“Let me,” I insisted. “Let me make reparation. Tell me what you want. Let me give you what you want.”

He leaned forward to push my hands down. “Put your hands on your thighs,” he ordered. Gratefully, I obeyed him, closing my eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered, and while it was difficult to obey, I was again grateful to have an instruction to follow. I looked up at him and saw that he was partially erect under his pants.

“My face is up here, Fraser,” he said, his voice somehow implacable and gentle at the same time. I met his eyes.

And there was nothing but kindness and affection there.

“You screwed up,” he said, stating a fact gently. “We all do. It hurt, but the thing that hurt the most was thinking she was going to kill you and hurting you when I meant to get her.” He stared at me. I wanted to look away, but hadn’t been given leave to. “No,” he contradicted himself. “What hurt most was realizing that she really _was _going to kill you. Later, when you said she didn’t have a gun, I thought it really didn’t matter, because if you’d gotten on that train with her, she would’ve killed you. Probably for good, sooner or later, and certainly killed your spirit, your morality, your self-respect…she would have killed all the things that make you Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”__

He paused, blinking rapidly. “Killed all the things that make you my friend, Benny,” he added. He took a moment, then made a vague gesture that encompassed the two of us, the room, the act of atonement I wanted to perform for him. On him.

“If I take this from you,” he said carefully, “I’ll just be doing her work for her.”

I moved, sitting directly on the floor at his feet, no longer kneeling before him. “You won’t….”

“No, Benny,” he said sadly. “It’s not like you’re not tempting as hell, and maybe I was wrong when I said that you’re not like this.” He ruefully gestured to his groin. “And, right about now, I’m pretty sure I was wrong when I said _I’m _not like this,” he added. “But…I wasn’t wrong when I said this isn’t who _we _are.”____

I nodded, letting his understanding and generosity wash over me. 

“And maybe we are…could be more than we are now,” he said. “But not like this. Not because you think you owe me. Not because you want to use me to expiate your sins,” he said, using the language of the Church. 

He stood up, extending a hand to help me to my feet. “You think about this while you’re gone,” he told me. “And I’ll think about it while you’re gone. And if we both think this is something we really want, something we want because we care about each other, we can talk about that when you get back.”

He drew me into a fraternal embrace, kissed me on the cheek. “Have a safe trip, Benny,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get back,” he promised, and left.

And I felt shriven and absolved, lighter and freer than I had for over a year.

***

The coded phone conversation, the hidden photograph…it wasn’t much comfort when I’d expected so much from my return. I’d thought about him, about me, about _us _while I was home, and reached no definitive conclusion. I loved him, of course, but I still didn’t know what the true nature of that love was, if it could extend beyond friendship. Or even if he could respond in kind.__

I went to the all-night diner with my new partner. The place was deserted, but he still looked around carefully. “He left you something else,” he told me, and I felt the press of his hand against my thigh. It seemed like an odd message, this gesture given by this stranger, until I realized his hand was covering a thin envelope. I nodded and slipped my hand down to take the envelope from him and put it in my pocket, all under the table. He nodded back at me and started talking about sports.

Later, taking refuge in the consulate, I opened the envelope to find a single sheet of paper with Ray Vecchio’s beloved, familiar handwriting on it.

_Dear Benny, ___

_I’m sorry. I had no choice but to go. This was not because of anything you did, or because of what we talked about. I still don’t know how I feel, and it’s burning me up that I have to leave you before I know. But no matter what happens, no matter where I go or what I do, I will always be thinking of you. And I hope that we’ll have a chance to figure out some answers. Some day. ___

_Love, ___

_Ray ___


End file.
